


Sometimes You Forget (Miloe)

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Stoner!Bass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:53:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4796750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel killed Bass and brought him back from the dead.  And now he and Miles have a proper reunion.  The scene that Kripke refused to give you:  I give to you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes You Forget (Miloe)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Orgy Armada: The Second Coming
> 
> Prompt: Sometimes you forget

Bass was flat on his back, with Miles’ thighs straddling his hips and Miles’ mouth fastened to the tight cords of Bass’ neck. Both their bodies were strumming with heat, slicked with sweat, and moved to the heartbeat that seemed inherently unified. Like their cocks, sliding slowly against one another through their clothes, hot, heavy, tumescent with unquenched want.

“Fuck, Miles,” Bass moaned, throwing his head further back so that Miles could draw his tongue over the pulsating veins in his neck, his own hands tangled in his old friend’s hair. Or old enemy. Frenemy. It was difficult to keep track.

“In a minute, Bass,” Miles breathed into the hollow between his collarbones and bit down on the perspiring, heated flesh there. His hands pressed into Bass’ ribs, fingers tightening, kneading those muscles, making it hard to breathe. Miles always made it hard to breathe.

“You’re taking advantage of my… uh… hngg…. in… ineb…. inebriation, you know.”

I mean, _fuck_. Bass understood very well the meaning of timing, especially with Rachel and Charlie lurking around who knows where. But he also understood a thing or two about getting executed and being brought back from the dead by your ex’s once and current girlfriend.

Miles bit down on the skin of Bass’ neck again, eliciting another moan. His hips slammed down against Bass’ own, slow and filthy, and bruisingly possessive.

“You can’t fucking die on me and expect not to get fucked, you stoner,” Miles breathed into Bass’ mouth, following that threat through with his tongue, invading, filling him, sucking on his lips as if he wanted to eat them off. If it wasn’t for all the drugs in his system, Bass was pretty sure he’d be feeling pretty damn intoxicated anyways, right about now.

“You... _let_ me die!” he drawled out, in what he hoped was his sternest tone.

“We’re not having this argument now.”

“Well, look who’s got the upper dick!”

Miles’ hands tore at what was left of Bass’ clothes. That shirt (if you can even call it that) resembled a funeral shroud more than an actual article of clothing anyways. But it left his chest exposed to Miles’ lips and teeth again, and he wasted no time assaulting one nipple, then the other, teasing at it with his tongue and teeth, like it was some kind of an exotic berry he wanted to suckle.

“You should at least say… ah!... you’re sorry before you go violating my res… reshmrrr.. resurrected body,” Bass smirked through the fog in his mind, his own nails dragging down his best frie… frenemy’s back, digging into the fleshy part of his ass. Oh yeah. Them’s the horseback riding muscles right there. Bass tightened his fingers and bucked up into the smoldering heat trapped between their bodies.

Instead of a human apology, Miles shoved his tongue down Bass’ throat again. It was typical, really, not at all unexpected, and Bass choked off a burst of laughter around Miles’ incoherent moans. 

It was probably too unrealistic to expect any proper sex either. The clandestine gropage alone was more than what Bass had been anticipating, even if he did wake up with Miles holding his frickin’ hand (that asshole!) and looking at him like he’d hung the damn moon (double asshole!). And what was Charlie smirking about, too? Looking between the two of them like she was on an episode of “My Two Dads.” He wondered if she’d known the truth about who her real daddy was. He wondered if she’d ever figured out it wasn’t Rachel he’d been saving her bacon for. It was always Miles, fucking Miles. That dick.

Speaking of dicks, Miles had managed to liberate them both from their pants. His calloused hand was sliding along their joined lengths, smearing the leaking streaks all over their cocks as they disappeared in and out of the tight vise of Miles’ fist.

“Fuck… yes!” Bass groaned. Oh man, this was the shit right here, almost worth dying for, but, you know, not quite. Miles’ thumb passed over his slit, teasing him. “Damn!”

Miles’ own incoherent groans made Bass’ head spin (or it might have been the drugs). He loved the feel of him like this, helplessly thrusting against him, all reason lost, just mouthing at the hinge of Bass’ jaw like his life depended on it. He thrust his hips up again, into the fist, into the shared heat of their bodies.

“Say… you’re sorry,” Bass squeezed out through his teeth, trying to stave off his orgasm that Miles was so determined to pull from his throbbing cock. “Say it, bitch.”

Miles’ hand clutched at Bass’ shoulder blade, almost painfully, his teeth dragging down along his unshaven jaw.

“I’m sorry, baby… You know I love you.”

“Make me come, you asshole,” Bass said, shutting his eyes and concentrating on the way his body pulsated with life and desire underneath Miles’ own. Another stroke, another thrust, and Bass felt Miles shudder just as his own dick unleashed stripes of come all over both their sweat-soaked chests.

“Bass…” Miles' ridiculous, brown, puppy-dog eyes looming above his face. _God_ , what a huge dickbag!

But sometimes, you just gotta let shit go. Sometimes, you forget.

“I love you too, asshole.”

And sometimes, you remember.


End file.
